


Whatever Have You Done To Me?

by detectivedoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, this is completely ooc i dont care tho?? whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivedoctor/pseuds/detectivedoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Molly had moved into 221b, Sherlock simply presumed that the strange instrument was for decoration as it was covered in beautiful patterns but, when he heard Molly playing one morning, he found himself wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Have You Done To Me?

**Author's Note:**

> i am bad at writing long things :) also this hasnt been checked for spelling and grammar and stuff

When Sherlock woke up, Molly wasn't by his side. He didn't expect her to be, it was 4 pm. But, he knew exactly where to find her. He sat up and pushed the duvet off of his legs and lazily swung out of bed, placing his blue dressing gown upon his shoulders and padded to the kitchen to make himself some coffee, and maybe some tea for Molly. As he brewed up, placing a tea bag in Molly's tea cup she found at a car boot, Sherlock absent-mindedly began to him along to the familiar tune Molly was playing upon her great-grandmother's harpsichord. When Molly had moved into 221B, Sherlock simply presumed that it was for decoration as it was covered in beautiful patterns but, when he heard Molly playing one morning, he found himself wrong. Finally finished with the various hot drinks, he balanced a cup in each hand and made his way to the corner of the living room where Molly often found herself at the most peculiar of times; she claimed that it helped her to think, "Like your nicotine patches, 'Lock." She once said.

Placing the cups on the table in the centre of the room, he leaned over and whispered, "Morning, Love." in Molly's ear, causing her to jump and the keys to clatter. "Oh, erm, morning! Well, afternoon, actually." She corrected herself before Sherlock could, "Don't creep up on me like that! You're like a ghost; you're so light on your feet." Apologies were muttered as Sherlock reached down the side of the harpsichord and brought out his Stradivarius case. Molly sipped delicately on her tea, scalding her tongue in the process, and watched as he deftly applied resin to the bow and played a few chords. "You've improved, you know." Sherlock stated, "Much better than the last time you played that piece." "Thanks," she said, smiling, "it was one of my mum's favourites. Her gran used to play it for her all the time."

"Hmm, was it? It's a nice tune, anyway." The couple played their respective instruments together, only breaking when Molly spoke, "I do love you, you know." Sherlock smiled, but it was hidden behind his violin. "Well, I suppose that I love you, too. Whatever have you done to me, Molly Hooper?"


End file.
